Bang and the Truth is out
by Mattioso
Summary: Harry has lived an unremarkable life as a Slytherin. Or so the staff think. Only know, when the Tri-Wizard Cup choses him, do the staff begin to think something may be wrong. As Dumbledore askes, more and more frightening truths come to light. How will this end? (Being rewritten, I couldn't remember what I was planning)
1. Chapter 1

The morning dawned as bright as all others in Hogwarts. The transfigured window seat creaked underneath me as I looked out across the grounds; the lawns leading all the way down to the edge of the darkness that was the forest, and the start of a smoke trail leading from Hagrid's hut. The book on warding runes was left open on my lap as I looked out across the grounds, smiling as the sun started to light up the day.

I slipped my leather bookmark into the tome and slipped the book into my bag for later reading. Readjusting my green and silver tie, I stood and began the walk from my alcove back down to the great hall. The house-elves began breakfast at sunrise, and it stayed out all the way until classes started, no matter when sunrise was. The hall would be crowded today, there were only so many hours to eat when the day was started so late.

I ate at the end of the Slytherin table, as far from the other few fellow snakes as I could be. It was mutually beneficial; I didn't inflict myself on them and they left me alone. Quickly wolfing my meal down, I walked from the hall, ready to face another day. Only three more years, I was just about half way through.

The day passed as slow as ever, with insults from both sides. The Gryffindors hated me because I was a Slytherin, and I didn't fit the story's they had been told about me adventures, when in reality I was at the Dursleys, and the Slytherins hated me because I was Harry Potter, the boy who killed their master and robbed them of there rightful place in the world. But I kept my head down and learnt as much as I could, while only showing a slither of what I was capable; the teachers always got so excited when I showed my true potential, then it got harder in Slytherin for a while.

Lunch was even more painful, what with me at one end of the table and the rest of the Slytherin crowding up at the other. None wished to experience Malfoy's wrath, what with him being the true power in Slytherin at the moment. The politics made me want to scream, then curse them. It was all so pointless, yet they stuck to there dances and ignored the real power people had.

Yet more boring lessons, with content I had covered years ago. Necessity was the greatest motivator after all, and I needed those skills years ago. A first year Harry Potter with no prior knowledge of the world I had been trust into; into the snake pit itself. The transfiguration skills had been needed when my quills would go missing, then my bag, item after item. Never to be seen again.

The food at diner was as exemplary as ever, with the house elves cooking it wouldn't be any less. Even with new recipes coming with the other schools, they cooked it all like it was there signature dish. I smiled to myself, then looked down the table at where Malfoy was holding court. Krum was sat next to him, and his expression hadn't changed since he sat down; bored disinterest under a thin veneer of attentiveness. But Malfoy was too busy peacocking to notice how little Krum actually cared about what he was saying. It did wonders for my amusement, seeing the blonde Hair of House Malfoy make an utter fool of himself in front of the created Viktor Krum.

I ate as fast as I usually did, but this was one meal I couldn't miss out on; what with the champion selection. Instead, I pulled out the warding book and opened it, losing myself in the rules of what runes to place where while creating a complex rune array. It was a whole different set of principles form the Ancient Greek runes I used before, but some of the Nordic runes would integrate nicely with my bed scheme. Not even a seventh year could get through them as they are now, but one could always improve.

After all the plates had been cleared (which had taken an age, some people failed to realize meals are for eating, and not for talking about nonsenses with friends they would spend the rest of the evening with) Dumbledore called for attention from the hall. I smirked as the hall immediately went quiet, showing the awe all the students held Dumbledore in; even the Slytherins didn't dare talk while Dumbledore himself was asking for their attention.

He smiled as the anticipatory faces swung towards him. "The time has come!" He called out over us, while putting out the fires around the hall with an impressive display of wandless magic. Or a runic array in the hall that was configured to his magical core, but that was irrelevant. The gesture had done as the old wizard had intended, the hall was filled with gloom and the anticipation had built to almost uncomfortable heights. "To choose the Tri-wizard Champions of our three schools. The goblet is nearly ready."

As he said it, the goblet's flames burst blue, bathing the hall in ethereal light. I could feel the waves of magic coming off the goblet as it scanned the hall for the magic off its chose. A burnt piece of parchment was blown out of the top, slowing at the top of its ark, then landing neatly in Dumbledore's hands. A masterful piece of showmanship. "The champion for Durmstrang is Viktor Krum." The fur covered seeker rose awkwardly from his chair, amidst the applause of the entire hall. He walked, as duck-footed and awkward as ever, to the door Dumbledore pointed out, with a small smirk adorning his face.

A few seconds after the door closed, I felt the goblet searching again. This time, I felt the tendril of magic hit the champion, drawing my eye to her. Fleur Delacour, the half Vela that had all the boys (and most of the girls) in a tizzy. My eyes flickered back to Dumbledore at the front of the hall, just as he caught the parchment. "And the champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour." Her schoolmates' reactions were vastly different from Durmstrang's, while they celebrated their champion selection, several of the other girls had burst into tears at Fleur's selection.

You could feel the Hogwarts kids' anticipation at the next selection, knowing this was the most relevant to them. The seventh years were leaning forward in excitement, each convinced they would be chosen. I smirked at the memory of Flint making a bet with his classmates that he would be picked; if he was picked as the best representation of Hogwarts, I was leaving. I felt the magic reach out and touch its champion. It was the Hufflepuff seeker, Cedric Diggory. Dumbledore's voice echoed through the hall a few moments later, confirming I was right.

I reopened my book, confident that the boring and, frankly, overdone ceremony was over. But my sense picked up a searching presence yet again, making me look up towards the goblet. It was still blue. That wasn't supposed to happen, was it? Whispers burst out around the hall at the goblet's strange behaviour. Dread filled me as the tendril of magic hit me, just as the goblet spat out a fourth piece of parchment. Dumbledore caught it, his lines on his face even more pronounced from worry. He unfurled the paper and read out two words. "Harry Potter." I cursed under my breath, I never could have a normal Halloween.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I stood and the world around me seemed to slow. The entire hall turned to glare at me, many muttering to each other about unfairness; all eyes were on me. I began to move up the hall, every footfall echoing through the vast space. Every head tracked my progress, watched every footfall as it landed. It was as I began to walk up the steps to the door when the calls came. Shouts and jeers followed me as I closed the heavy wooden door behind me, muffling the sounds from the hall.

The other champions just looked confused, except Diggory. He glared at me, immediately suspicious of my being here. "What are you doing here, Potter?" I didn't answer, only moving father into the room. Trophy's adorned the walls in glass cabinets, flinging the low lights around the room in dizzying patterns and reflections, mirroring the turmoil that was filling me. Only an excellent grip on my magic had stopped a response in the hall, and I wasn't sure how long I could keep my control when the teachers burst in here.

As if my thought had summoned them, the entire staff, it seemed, burst into the room. Dumbledore was at the lead, and he walked calmly towards me; his relaxed attitude a complete contrast to the rest of the staff. He didn't even look at the other champions, his entire focus on me. A brief tickle on my mental shields showed he wanted to be sure I was telling the truth. "Mr. Potter, did you put your name in the goblet of fire?"

I stood tall, confident that I wasn't lying, for once. "No." It was simple, yet it got the message across. The room exploded into shouts and cries, each yelling for there own opinion to be heard over all the rest. Fools. If they believed I could completely to the headmaster they were stupid; he had been practicing legilimency longer than I had been alive, and a blatant lie was the hardest to conceal.

Dumbledore looked away from me, his face clouded with worry. I smirked internally at his discomfort, the old fool deserved all of it, and more. "He didn't put his name in the goblet. I don't know any more than that." He told the room, which exploded again.

Eventually, Moody lost his temper. "Quiet! First, if Dumbledore says the Potter lad didn't put his name in the goblet, I believe him. Second, why do you think he is capable? By all accounts, he is a mediocre wizard at best with no where needed the skill to compete in a competition like this. If anyone should be complaining, it should be Potter, but I don't hear him saying anything. Do you?"

At this, Delacour swelled up with indignation. "Well, of course he isn't complaining, this is a chance we have been waiting weeks and weeks for this! He is getting an opportunity many would die for!" She was working herself up to a full-blown temper tantrum in her indignation. It wouldn't be long before she started to stomp her foot at the unfairness of it all and started to cry for mommy if she continued in this vein.

Moody spoke up before it reached this point. "Maybe someone is hoping the Potter boy does die for it! There's plenty of You-Know-Who's followers still around." Was it my imagination, or did Moody's gaze flick to Karkaroff when he said this?

McGonagall gasped at Moody's inference. "But Allister, what a thing to suggest!" She was looking disapproving over the entire room, as if she would like nothing more than to take house points from the lot of them; though it could have just been her distaste at Delacour's childish behaviour.

The old Auror just laughed darkly. "What, you don't think the lad has enemy's? He is enemy number one on every Dark Wizard kill list in the country."

Crouch intervened in the argument before it could really start. "This changes nothing; the rules are clear. The Potter boy must compete, that is final." Shouts filled the room again.

I zoned the argument after that, knowing there was nothing I could say that would convince anyone who believed me guilty that I was innocent, but would probably do the inverse. Instead, I began to plan for how I was going to survive this; Moody was right, this was a calculated enemy movement. No student, except maybe myself with lots of research, could perform a Confundus charm with enough power to stop the goblet, so it needed to be a member of staff. The only candidate I could think of was Karkaroff; any teacher other than Moody would have acted far sooner than now, and Moody had filled half the cells in Azkaban, or so they said. Maxime was a half giant, which no pure blood would accept into there camp, so it couldn't be here. Therefore, it had to be Karkaroff, but why?

While I had been thinking my way through the problem, the discussion had wrapped up, leaving everyone unhappy. A glaring Snape tapped me on the arm and gestured for me to follow him from the room. I did so without complaint, very glad to be out of the stifling atmosphere of the Trophy room. The dark potions master strode though the halls, very nearly leaving me behind on a few occasions, making me fee like a lost puppy trailing in its owner's wake. It took me a moment to realise that we weren't heading towards the Slytherin common room but towards Snape's office. That made me far more nervous than I would ever admit; only the worst offenders got dragged into Snape's office to be dealt with.

After several more minuets of walking, we were before Snape's heavy-set wooden door to his office. The wards around the room engulfed me at least a meter from the door; they felt like a heavy blanket had just been laid over my magical senses, muffling the entire area, hiding just what wards there were.

Snape threw the door aside and gestured me inside. He was most certainly not in the mood for mind games, so I followed the instruction without complaint. The tall figure moved across the room and sat himself in the chair behind his desk. Not even for a moment did he stop glaring; it seemed to be etched on his face. A pale finger came out from under the black robes and gestured at the chair opposite the dark oak desk. I sat in the hard-backed seat, hoping to every deity I could think of that no emotion would show on my face.

Finally, he spoke, his voice colder than ice. "What do you think your playing at, Potter?" I looked up at him, feeling the Legilimency crash up against my makeshift barriers. He stayed at the edges of my mind, but he would know if I lied.

I took a deep breath, then spoke calmly. "I didn't enter my name into the cup, professor."

His dark eyes glared at me still. "You are aware, I assume, that you are now a target? Neither Slytherin nor any of the other houses will help you."

I couldn't hold in a bitter laugh at that. "And they have before, professor? I've been a target for my entire time here. The Gryffindor Slytherin to my housemates, and the corrupted dark wizard to the rest of the school."

The potion master was still glaring at me. "Make light of your situation all you want, the rest of Slytherin will not be amused at this and they will seek you out for reparations." He turned away from his desk and began to pace the room, his clock billowing spectacularly behind him.

I decided to take a chance. "Professor, as much as I appreciate the concern, I am more than capable of dealing with the Slytherins."

He turned sharply at that, his glare still firmly in place. "You think you can hold up to the entirety of Slytherin house? You're a fool; not even your father was as arrogant as that." He practically spat at me.

"That's not what I meant sir. I am capable of avoiding my housemates at all times, after all, I am well practiced." I was dropping as many clues as I could that he should let me deal with this, but he still wouldn't let it go.

At my words he turned away again. "If you feel equipped to deal with your housemates, as you so surely seem to be, leave." Smiling quietly to myself, I left the dark office and walked slowly back to the Slytherin common room.

My plan was very simple. Burst into the room with the strongest shield I could manage and run for the stairs down. Once I was in my bed, and the wards active, no one could reach me. Years of developing those ward schemes had paid off; I was confident that they would be unbreachable to all in the school, except the teachers.

My wand was in my hand as I murmured the password and slipped through the portrait. What seemed like the entirety of Slytherin were in the room, all staring straight at me. "Potter," Malfoy began, "what on earth do you think you are playing at?"

I would have placed good money on Malfoy thinking he was actually in charge here, but my eyes were on the sixth and seventh years that were arranged at before the arch that lead to the dorms. "I was thinking, Malfoy, that I didn't put my name in that goblet."

The blond ponce laughed at that. "Do you take me for a fool, Potter?" He drew his wand theoretically. "I suppose I'll have to teach you proper respect."

My mind was running through as many different resolutions as possible, yet there only seemed to be one. "Okay, Malfoy, just you and me. I win, and these lot," I gestured at the rest of the room with a casual flick, "will let me through."

Malfoy smiled, one I assumed he thought made him look intimidating when it really just made him look stupid. "Of course, Potter. But it isn't going to happen. Stupefy!"

I dogged the spell with seekers grace and yelled the same incantation. Malfoy was completely unprepared for any retaliation and fell flat on his face. I smiled at the other Slytherins. "Goodnight." And with that, I walked from the room and fell into my bed, confident in the ward scheme protections.

 **A/N: And I'm back. For now, anyways**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

School was a dull as ever. A quick charm on my books meant no one could tell what I was actually reading, so I got to work revising the ward schemes on my trunk. Someone had had a good attempt at breaking in last night, and if I left them as they were, they might make some more progress and break into my first compartment. Though it wouldn't be terrible, I really didn't want to replace my clothes again this term, after Malfoy had colour changed all my robes when I opened the trunk to grab a textbook. I hadn't been able to undo the charm, even with some rather potent decolouring charms, so I assumed it was something the Hogwarts library hadn't got a book on.

But, in charms, I slipped up. Flitwick was walking past when he caught a glimpse of the parchment, I was inscribing Nordic runes on, and his eyebrows had shot up immediately. I cursed to myself as he asked me to stay behind, knowing I had shown my hand too soon. If Flitwick started to spread that I was holding back, the older years would start to worry about me usurping their position is Slytherin, and that would be a disaster.

I didn't even have time to sketch a dummy of what I had been doing, something that would obviously have been taken from a library book. No, it would have to be the nearly complete rune chain, complete with the arithmetic formula written down the side, something no fourth year should have been capable of.

He smiled at me as I walked forward. "Now, Mr. Potter, you're not in trouble. No need to walk like its your own funeral. I am simply curious about that rather intriguing piece of parchment; why that is sixth year runes content in an entire new language, do you mind if I take a look?"

I reluctantly pulled the piece of parchment out, careful not to wrinkle the runes or formula. It needed to be perfect when I put it in my rune's notebook for later reference, and if I messed the runes or formula up with creases the perfectionist in me would make me redo the entire sheet. Flitwick's eyes followed my every movement as I handed the parchment over to him. He took it reverently, his eyes scanning every inch of the parchment.

After several seconds, he looked back up at me. "Mr. Potter, I really think you should show Professor Babbling this; she could get you an OWL with this alone. In Nordic runes as well, why they are incredibly temperamental from what I have heard." His long, slim fingers gently placed the parchment down on the desk as he looked at me.

I kept my eyes low, hoping against hope that he would let me go. Unfortunately, he didn't seem interested in leaving the subject. "Do you have any more work like this? Maybe something hidden away in your trunk?" The small man's eyes were gleaming; he must have figured out what the runes were for by the arithmetic formula.

I shook my head slowly. "No professor, nothing like this. It's a long-term project to try and protect my stuff." With practiced ease, I slipped in a laugh. "You know how teenage boys love to perform prank each other, yet I am don't find having my robes turned green that fun." The diminutive charms professor didn't seem too convinced however, which was a first.

He snapped his fingers and a house elf appeared. That made me pause. Why did he need a house elf… "Bring me Mr. Potter's trunk, please?" Damn, now I was in trouble. There was no way I could disable the wards around my trunk before Flitwick saw them.

The house elf nodded and popped away. "Now, Mr. Potter, I just thought we could apply this ward together, considering there seems to be few volatile runes here." He started pointing to a few of the runes on the desk but was interrupted by the house elf coming back with one small hand on the side of my trunk.

It let go of the trunk and popped away immediately, leaving me, Flitwick and my rather heavily warded trunk in the classroom together. He looked down at it, and his eyes widened slightly at the runes carved on the top. I thought it would get the message across to any classmates: it was a very large protection rune that was still glowing from its activation. As was a fair part of the trunk.

The charms professor sighed, then looked at me. "Mr. Potter, when you said that the runes I saw was a long-term project and that you had nothing else like it I fear you may have been lying."

This was new to me. I never got caught. Hadn't for years. I looked at the ground sheepishly between the pair of us. "I think I may have exaggerated slightly." I hedged, hoping against hope he wasn't going to break my protections.

Yet that didn't seem to be on his mind. "You know what, Mr. Potter? I really think the Headmaster should see this; it is quite incredible. Please, come to his office after your evening meal tonight." Great, this really was quite the mess I had got myself caught up in, things really couldn't get much worse.

As I walked out of the classroom, a hand grabbed the shoulder of my robe and slammed me up against the wall. It was a sixth year Hufflepuff, with several large friends as back up, and apparently fate had decided to take offense to my 'can't get worse' thought while talking to Flitwick. "Listen here, brat, you owe us an apology." I was a bit stunned to react here; what could the badgers want with me. Then it hit me: the tournament.

The large hand shook my small frame hard up against the wall. "Well, Potty, what's it going to be." With calm that only came in times of extreme anger for me, I whipped away the spit he had sprayed over my face in his ire.

With a flick of my wrist, the calm power of my Ebony wand in hand **(A/N: Intentional, don't worry)** and the heat of my anger in my heart, I let loose in a way I almost never did. I silent stunner had the first on the floor before any of the others even knew what was happening. The second fell to a whispered body-bind before his wand had left his pocket. How Hufflepuff; not having your wand drawn when ambushing someone. The third took a step back, while the forth wasted no time in sending off a stinging hex.

He earned my full ire.

Within five seconds of attempting to curse me, he: received mottle black and red hair all over his face, had his robes spelled florescent purple, had his back covered in painful hives, his shoes turned into clown shoes (complete with bells), and, most spectacularly, the most glorious green Mohican I had ever seen. Why, it was over a foot in height, and would probably glow in the dark.

After seeing the full force of my anger, the fifth and third Hufflepuff decided that attacking me wasn't a very good idea and ran. So, it was me that walked away from the chaos outside Flitwick's classroom, scowling at the walls in anger. How dare they? I did nothing to them.

The rest of the day was uneventful. The work was easy, and I no more teachers found me doing dangerous rune work. Maybe because I wasn't doing any runes work in class, but that wasn't the point. The day finished an hour before dinner, so I headed to my usual place after class hours.

Hogwarts was full of little rooms that no one but the house elves ever saw, which I had discovered in my first year. Then, all I had in it was a chair and a small desk, so I wasn't stuck in the library. Now, it had four bookshelves filled with handwritten notes on almost everything, one for each year, a large oak desk taken from an abandoned classroom, a smuggled in desk chair (which had been very funny: wheeling that thing down the tunnel and corridors between here and the furniture shop in Hogsmeade without being seen) and several very nice writing sets. And that was only my side of the room.

I sat behind the, admittedly very nice, desk and began doing the maths on the latest ward I wanted to anchor to this room. The current wards were all well and good, but they weren't very well distributed. This would be an area ward on the entire place so anyone not approved would find all the defences activated to expel them.

The door opened, and Neville stepped through, his long hair covering most of his face. "Afternoon Harry." I nodded to the Gryffindor outcast, before turning back to my wards. He wandered over to his desk and slumped in his own smuggled chair (that one had been even more fun, considering there was two of us to laugh at how ridiculous the entire thing was), pulling out his own parchment for homework. "Snape set us a foot on the uses of troll bones in rot inducing potions. Rotten git."

I smirked over at him. "Really Nev, rotten git is the best you have? Usually you have several long paragraphs of complaints to make." The other boy laughed, and I felt myself relax a bit from the day.

"So, what's up with the tournament? I know you, being in it will upset your plans." At this he rolled his eyes, obviously think of how ridiculous my plans were.

I sighed and looked out of the window of our little study. "No, I didn't enter and yes, it is upsetting my plans. The judges won't let me bow out either; it's a binding magical contact I apparently accepted when I didn't snap the goblets cord. Which I only sensed for about a second."

Neville grinned, his eyes gleaming. "I suppose this makes your plan redundant, so you can finally show how good you are." For some reason, the Gryffindor seemed to be enjoying this.

"You know I wasn't planning on that until fifth year. I'm still not sure I can handle Slytherin."

At my statement, Neville just started to laugh. "You know, I do believe that is the single most stupid thing you've ever said."

I scowled over at him. "What do you mean?"

"Well, you are kind of a bit, how shall I say this, over-competent at magic for your age. I mean, come on; a Patronus at thirteen? Your trunk at fourteen?"

I shook my head. "Result of need, Neville. And right now, I need a way to survive in a tournament that has killed the best choices of the three premier schools of magic in the world for hundreds of years."

Neville just smirked at me. "I have upmost faith in your ability. What was up with Flitwick earlier?" Damn, I had forgotten about that.

So, I told him, shortly, about how the half goblin had outwitted me. By the end, he was holding back tears of laughter. I scowled again, painfully aware of how much I was over using it. **(A/N: No really, what other menacing but really kinda cute expressions do people pull when miffed with a friend?)**

Neville was utterly unimpressed by my threatening expression. "You got completely outplayed. What's your plan with Dumbledore?"

I sighed and looked down. "I don't know. Now is the worst possible time for him to question me; he needs to believe I didn't put my name in. But this could throw doubts on my Occlumency ability."

Neville stood and walked over to me, grabbing me by the shoulder. "Don't worry, Harry, you've got this. I believe." I smiled at his assurances and went back to the runes. Would the ambient magic by the other wards fray the edges or would… and soon I was lost in thought.

Dinner was as awkward as ever, except even the Durmstrang students were throwing glares at me. I smirked as a familiar green hairstyle wondered through the doors of the hall, gleeful that Pomphrey had not been able to undo the spell or, more likely, knew what he had been up to and left him with the hair. I ate my usual amount, and surreptitiously drank one of my nutrition potions, to make up for the summer.

After the dinner, the summons I had been dreading arrived. Flitwick came and grabbed me before I could disappear, and so I was dragged to the gargoyle. A mutter of 'Iced mice' opened the stairs, and Flitwick followed me up the rotating stairs.

Dumbledore's office was as spectacular as ever, what with the portraits and magical instruments. An idle part of me wondered what he was analysing or whether some of them where alchemically based, while the more active part of me was thinking of ways to end this meeting as soon as possible. My trunk was already sat at the bottom of Dumbledore's desk, though it seemed undisturbed.

The familiar glint of the headmaster's eyes doubled when he saw me. "Ah, Mr. Potter, what an unusual pleasure. Professor Flitwick has told me about your amazing runes work, and after looking at your trunk, I simply must have you show me some of the wards you've anchored to it."

At a flick of the old Warlocks wand, the trunk was propelled into the air, while my charms teacher looked on curiously. "Now, from my preliminary scans, I have found several wards intended to fool the casual onlooker. In fact, most of this is an illusion." I nodded at what he was saying: no use denying it now so I may as well boast a bit. He continued. "Now, I am well aware that you probably have the runes written somewhere, so you won't mind if I start to try break through?"

I smiled at him. "I can reapply the runes later, that's not a problem. But I would warn you, the bottom lairs get pretty violent." The headmaster's eyes widened at the challenge.

He continued with his explanation of his thoughts. "So, when I strip away one set of runes," a copy of the trunk replicated itself into the air; a trick a lot of cursebreakers use when opening the more violent tombs, "it would appear that a time activated shield appears, and the illusion reappears on the inside, a defence that would probably make little sense to the onlooker." His wand flicked at the copy, enacting what he was describing.

"From what I can tell, there are three illusion wards anchored here," as he spoke, lights appeared on the holograph, that had been put back to its before meddling state, "here, and here. But all three are linked together, so whoever is attempting entry must break all three simultaneously."

I smiled a little to myself as he undid the runes. A boom shook the hologram as the chest threw of a simulation of the wave of curses that had just activated. Dumbledore's eyes widened significantly at that, and he turned to regard me over his glasses. "Well, I underestimated you Mr. Potter."

He went quiet for a moment, then smiled. "A feedback loop hooked into the central ward, with a detection rune detecting the magical backlash the illusion runes create. Very clever, I must say." He flicked his wand, and then disabled the illusions. Yet, the curses still activated. "But if I were to, say, but an absorber just over the top of the rune then overload it, the absorber would suck up the power, so why is that not working?"

Flitwick spoke then, leaving Dumbledore to think. "Why, Mr. Potter, I knew you were good when I saw the Nordic runes, but really? A cascading failure detection ward? That's pretty impressive." I had no idea what he was talking about; the illusion was merely a diversion. They weren't the real illusion casters, instead I was using a cluster at the bottom of the trunk to do that. No, the runes Dumbledore was overloading were simple triggers.

Just as I thought this, Dumbledore began to laugh. "I really underestimated you. However, simply the trunk being on the ground wouldn't mask those in future." Flitwick looked confused as the illusions melted off the trunk. "Professor Flitwick, the runes I was activating were illusions themselves; being them were activation runes." The charms professor looked at me in surprise.

They were now at the middle level. The wards now became a lot more… shall we say persuasive here. Trip one of the runes wrong and the trunk would be spewing spells like a lit firework shop, but I doubted Dumbledore would. Indeed, he navigated the runes carefully, without tripping any of my protections, and so disabled the second lair of defences.

The last lair was designed to slow down any intruder for as long as possible and was by far the most complicated. It was supposed to hold off any intruder until I could get back to my trunk, and as such had the most complex runes out of all my defences. Dumbledore abandoned his commentary here, instead focusing entirely on entry.

When he had finished, he looked up at me. "Mr. Potter, I must say, that is very impressive. I do hope your schoolwork improves to show the level of charms and runes we now know you capable." And with that I was sent back to my dorm, with the trunk to reenchant.

 **A/N: Hello, here I am with another chapter of this. This chapter introduces several very important concepts, and several themes. Neville is very important, I will tell you that now, as is the battle of wits Harry is having, which symbolises how he thinks about adults. The next chapter will be more about the tournament, and Harry's prep. I have always thought the tournament was a bit easy: that tournament killed the best of the three best schools in Europe in the past**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

School had gotten a lot harder after my encounter with Dumbledore. Even Snape had raised his standards and was calling on for more and more advanced knowledge, while McGonagall was being harsher and harsher on the grading of my essays. But, still, I managed to keep parts of myself hidden behind a wall of mediocracy.

Neville on the other hand had really begun to shine. After I had instructed him, in no uncertain terms, last year to get a new wand he had finally done it. A very pretty English Oak wood, with a Phoenix feather core. Since the wand and him had bonded properly, he now got spells in the first two or three tries, rather than the twenty it would take before. He was soon being hailed as the best in Defence, and in charms; something Granger took with her usual attitude.

The snakes in the forest had alerted me to their 'big fiery cousins in the dark place' which made me believe I needed to head into the forest to find what I was looking for. So, one afternoon after classes, I headed to the Forbidden forest to do a little bit of investigating with my cloak.

The searching was as fruitful as I had hoped; four large dragons where in cages just beyond sight of the castle. There were also several more dragon handlers than I had thought there would be, but while I was there, I saw why. One dragon, who had more spikes than a shark has teeth, rose up in its cage and blew the most incredible gout of flames I had ever seen. It took four shields and more than a dozen stunners to bring it down, and even then, it had nearly taken off a handler's head with its tail. I winced to myself, knowing that if my personal luck had anything to do with the selection, I would end up in the arena with that monster.

My heart was heavy as I strode back to castle. The library was my only hope; none of my previous tactics would work against the might of those magical creatures. My plan of outrunning the dragon on my broom lay in ashes around my feet for the sheer distance that the spikey one could blow flames would mean I would be ash before I was even off the ground.

The Hogwarts Library is more than just a collection of books in an organised selection. Instead, it was much like the castle itself; the more in need a person was, and the more reasons they had for their search, the more helpful the castle would be. Indeed, I myself had felt this as looking for books to help my essays look more reasonable, I would come across reasons for the magic to be what it was, rather than the more common books on how that magic would integrate with usual situations spells would be used on. This was both an advantage and a disadvantage as when looking for a specific book the library would often decide you needed something more advanced, yet when in my position it often brought out gems of knowledge that would be nearly impossible to find again.

This said, when I walked into the defence section, all of the cases were full of both ancient and new books, ranging from animation to shields to wards to armour creation. I smiled up at the ceiling, knowing the magic of the library has sensed my dire need. Then I got to work.

My bag was charmed to be able to stack books alphabetically when I put them in, and I knew all of these would be useful to me. Therefore, I had to decided what looked the most helpful. In the end, I grabbed ten books of the shelves and headed Neville and I's room. Unknown to me, an eleventh book feel into my bag when I was not looking, and the cases seemed to sigh in relief.

The next day, I decided about my competition. With a sigh, I strode after Diggory when he left the room, still surrounded by the gaggle of admirers he had walked with. With a silent curse, I tripped the pretty boy over, giving me time to catch him. Without slowing down, I walked right up to them. All of his friends pulled wands, but with a simple flick of my wand they were knocked to the ground and with a second flick we were covered by a privacy bubble. Diggory was looking confused as hell, but finally realised I had just attacked him, so drew his wand.

I summoned it straight from his hand and held it in my left. "Look, Diggory, I'm not here to fight. I just need a quick word." The taller seeker nodded, still confused at my actions, but this needed to be quick. There was no need for a pitched battle in the corridors, and his sycophants were getting up. "The first task is dragons." With a smirk, I threw his wand to his feet, and slipped through a secret passage when he lent down to grab it. While maybe not the most Slytherin of approaches, it had got my general message across to both Diggory and the rest of the Hufflepuffs; don't mess with me because you'll lose. Oh, and I had played fair with the competition. Or at least the one who I knew wouldn't cheat on his own.

A week later, and the First task was only another week away, and yet I was no closer to having a plan. Yes, I had built myself a very nice set of armour that would protect me from about thirty seconds of direct flame, and, yes, I had learnt a lot of transfiguration and curses to use on the environment around the dragon, but I still had no plan. The best I had was charm the rocks to create chains and try restraining the dragon like that, but I had no faith in my ability to keep the dragon there while grabbing an egg at its feet.

With the despondency that only came with oncoming doom, I reached into my bag and grabbed the last book. In my dull mood, I failed to realise that made eleven books, and not the ten I had actually put in my bag, and as such I opened and began to read. And, still not really paying attention, I saw that it was a guide to a type of magic I had only briefly touched upon before: the use of emotions and feelings to lend strength to your casting.

Only three chapters in did I realise how game changing this book really was. All of my magic could be made more powerful by using this. And, even better, righteous anger worked to do it. The book did warn that most people's magic just wasn't capable of this, and the half of the people that had an affinity for this form of magic had an affinity for negatively powering their spells, but I could feel in my bones that this would work.

I was infused with new fever. With a mental flick, my wand sprang to my hand. I summoned all the happy memories I had, memories of meeting Neville, teaching him, thoughts of family, and the wish for family I had, and I channelled it through my wand, augmenting the already considerable force of my will. "Reforma voluntatem meam!"

The spell did just what I asked, and the wood of the floor sprang up from the floor and formed basic shapes. With a smile, I swung my invisibility cloak around me and strode from the room. Behind me, the golems made by the floor dropped back into their usual place, and the room locked.

I slipped through the halls, straight up to the seventh-floor corridor, and paced three times. The familiar large doors appeared, and I stormed slipped through them into a large hall filled with rocks. With a metal command, my cloak leapt from shoulders and onto the ground, and I drew my wand again. A stream of blasting hexes smashed the rocks into tinny pebbles, the perfect size for animating.

Then, with an immense effort, I pulled the pebbles together and formed the golems I would need. Then, with a tremendous effort, I pushed the animation to them. And, for a few seconds, I felt connected to each of them. The three golems started to move on my will, but as I was instructing them my connection to the spell itself, and the positive emotions powering it, faded into nothingness, leaving me with three lumps of rocks on the ground.

The last day before the task and I finally showed Neville the golems. He had been asking about my plan since I told him I had one, but I couldn't hold the golems for ten minutes until yesterday. Now, I could hold the golems with almost ease, except for the tremendous energy needed to keep them moving and under control.

Neville met me in the room, already configured with the large rocks, water, and just dirt that I had been practicing with for the six days. My reasoning was if I could animate water, rock and dirt I would be able to handle wherever the task was. When he saw me stood in the room, he strolled towards me.

"Ok Harry, you've had your fun. It's time to show me." The dark hair boy was almost glaring at me, very put out with my decision to withhold the information.

With a wrist flick, my wand was in my hand, but I decided to have some fun with him first. I placed the wand on my chin, in a contemplative stance. "You know, I really need my energy for tomorrow. I mean, this plan of mine is really tiring, and I would hate to get roasted alive by a dragon because I showed my friend the spell."

I quickly had to dodge a stinging hex he sent my way. "We both know you can recover overnight. Get casting." I smirked at him, then turned and blasted the large boulders to pebbles. Neville winced at the booming sounds, and out up a shield to cover any shrapnel that might come flying his way. Then, I silently cast my animation spell, concentrating on the good times me and Neville had had over the years. The golems formed, but they were far larger than ever before.

Neville took a step back as the three twelve-foot-tall animated constructs formed. "Harry, where on earth did you find that spell?"

He seemed nervous for some reason. As nervous as the time I asked him to go into the Chamber of Secrets with me. I put his fears to rest. "Don't worry, it was in the Hogwarts library."

Neville shook his head. "Mate, those are complex magical constructs. People use spells of that magnitude to level citadels and create armies of the most powerful soldiers."

I laughed. "Your joking, I've seen Dumbledore animating his cutlery to dance and deform to his will."

He shook his head. "Yeah, and that's Dumbledore. He's mad. You shouldn't even be able to bring one of those things to life at your age, let alone three."

I was now curious. "Where'd you learn about all this?"

The Longbottom heir shook his head. "My library has some powerful dark magic in it, and spells like that are never to be trifled with."

"Your family is dark?" I was shocked, when I went looking to the Longbottom's history in first year, I had been told they were staunch supporters of the light, and usually stood side by side with the Potters.

"Yes, my family is dark, magically speaking. I thought you knew, that's why…"

I cut across him. "What do you mean magically speaking."

The dark-haired boy turned to me, disbelief in his eyes. "No one has told you about magic classifications?" I shook my head, so he continued. "Let's see if I can remember what Gran told me about this. Magic is a spectrum, like all of life, not just black and white. People have an inherent affinity for a certain magic type, be it dark or light, or somewhere in the middle. Then people have policies, which show their political stance; the Longbottom's have light policies, as we believe that all should have equal standing in the world regardless of birth, but dark magic. That means the Longbottom's can use spells that have a darker affinity, and often call on negative emotions."

He paused and looked at me. "Am I boring you?" I quickly shook my head, this wasn't something that anyone had ever told me. "Anyways, Gran told me that while dark magic uses negative emotions that doesn't make it bad. Magic is a tool to be used like any other tool but be careful about letting those negative emotions rule me. Because of this dark affinity, I couldn't easily use a more light-based spell, like the Patronus charm, but I could easily perform something like Fiendfire, and control it far easier than you could."

In my listening, I had allowed the golems to dissipate away. Neville looked up from where he had been staring in concentration. "Did no one tell you?"

I shook my head, then looked over at my bag, where the book of Light magic sat. I smirked; and looked over at Neville. "We're going to make quite the team, you and I. Light magic and dark, standing side by side, the world isn't going to know what hit it."


End file.
